


Bit of Skirt

by Tragedy_girl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bottom Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy in a Skirt, Halloween, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Top Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-20
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-29 03:01:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30149775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tragedy_girl/pseuds/Tragedy_girl
Summary: Harry sees Malfoy in skirt and loose his mind.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 131





	Bit of Skirt

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I was just in the mood for some smut. I mean, I just read "Knickers in a twist" by technicolourbeat and now I have a kink for Draco in skirt.  
> Also, English's not my first language, so bare with me^^

Most of the people just assume that he hates Halloween because of all the tragedy that had happened years ago when he was a baby.

Well, the reason was much simpler than that.

Harry hates Halloween because it was _cursed_.

Every fucking time, every goddamn year, something must happen on Halloween. Something _bad_. Like a fucking pattern—as if his life wasn’t already fuck up enough.

And today wasn’t an exception.

He should have seen it coming. The day was too perfect to be true. Hell, even the _weather_ was great—and that should be alarming, considering the season—and for an instant, Harry lets himself believe that maybe, just maybe, this Halloween would be great.

Until Malfoy come.

Don’t get him wrong; he didn’t hate Malfoy—at least, not anymore. They weren’t _friends_ , but they weren’t enemies either. Malfoy seems to be trying to avoid him, and the rare moment they did face each other, they were at least cordial, he presumed—a bit awkward yes, but cordial. And, really, given their history, it was a miracle.

So, it’s not Malfoy _himself_ that fuck everything, but what he was _wearing_.

Harry saw him the moment he enters the place—Malfoy was unmissable, really, with his flashy hair and his bloody _aura_ that _used_ to drive him crazy—and for a second, he forgets how to breathe.

A _school-girl_. Malfoy was disguised in a _fucking_ schoolgirl.

“Shit,” Ron said next to him, but Harry couldn’t tear his eyes away.

Shit, indeed.

There was something very disturbing in the way Malfoy was wearing _this_ type of clothes especially.

Maybe it was the confidence. He was waving through the crowd like he did it a thousand-time, high chin and all presumptuous, like the fucking pure blood he was.

Maybe it was the way the shirt fit him, like a second skin. Covering all his lean frame like it was mean to be, letting nothing to imagination.

Or maybe the hair, long enough to reach his shoulder, so white and bright like skill. Framing his pointed face, and highlighting his pink lip—was it _gloss_???—and letting his skin _glow_ , even at his distance.

“Why is he wearing a schoolgirl uniform?” Harry asks for the umpteenth time, tapping his foot and scolding his arm. He was irritated, for some reason, and deeply perturbed even if he rather dies than admit it.

Hermione rolls her eyes, visibly annoyed. She was wearing a wonder woman disguise, that seem to appropriate not to be cliché. At least, she was beautiful in it, so that wasn’t that bad.

“Really Harry, why not?” she replies, waving a dismissive hand. “It’s not like it was prohibited or something.”

Yeah, he guesses she was right, but that didn’t mean he needs to agree. Because, if he trusted the look around him, he wasn’t the only one that thinks it was _disturbing_.

“Yeah mate,” Ron adds, chewing whatever was on the table. The pointed canines of his disguise were showing at each movement. “Plus, it looks good on him.”

Harry almost gags. He spurs, and stares at him like he was mental. “The fuck, Ron?”

The red hair just shrugs and grins. He didn’t even look bashful. “All I’m saying is, why is it bothering you so much?”

He opens his mouth, then clap his jaw shut and scold. It wasn’t _bothering_ him, thank you very much, it was just disturbing.

Distracting.

Whatever that’s mean.

Hermione just smirks with sly, and this was such an odd thing on her that he sniffs with disdain and walks away.

 _Whatever_.

Maybe it was the socks, Harry trough absently, eyeing the blond has he talk and laugh with Zabini and Nott in the distance.

Maybe it was the way the socks tied his legs. This infuriating, endless legs of him, tied up in long black socks, that just reach his thighs.

Maybe it was the skirt. This stupidly good-looking skirt. Short— _too short_ —that he was sure that if he bends down, just a little, he will have a good view on his perfect arse –

“We’re throwing a party after, in the room of requirement. Want to come?”

Harry blinks. Straightening up, he cleared his thoughts, and meet the eyes of Parkinson has best as he could. She was clothes like Medusa, all beautiful and seductive—even with her snake-like hair.

Was it a Slytherin thing? Looking good even in garbage?

He snorts. “Sorry?”

She rolls her eyes, but there was a gleam in it that he didn’t like. “The party, Potter. Want to come?”

He considers declining, but then again, for what? It’s not like there was so much to do these days. Voldemort was dead, most of his class were just for the name of it, and—well, most of his friends were going. He didn’t fancy walking up alone in his dorm.

He shrugs. “Sure.”

“Good,” she smirks. “See you later then.”

She walks away, and Harry shakes his head.

Well, he thought, that was weird.

* * *

At some point, they were all gathered in the room or requirement. Seamus and Dean manage to have some firewhiskey—seriously, how they do that?—and with all the previous years absent, the party was more intimated.

They were loud, but it was strangely relaxing. Some people were talking—he could spot Ron with Neville somewhere, waving and grinning with some Hufflepuff. Hermione was chatting with Lavender, and she seems pretty excited—and some other were flirting. He could even spot a couple of Ravenclaw snogging nearby.

Harry sip on his glass. The alcohol was a good buzz in his guts. He scans the crowd and spot Malfoy in a corner, talking with Pansy. He was resting on his right leg, hip popped out, and he could see the way his skirt bounce when he moves. There was a space between the skirt and the socks, a bit of pale flesh that drags his eyes when the skirt shifts a little.

This was driving him crazy. What the fuck Malfoy was thinking, walking around in this fucking skirt, like it didn’t ignite something inside him? How dare he, looking so gorgeous, and damn sexy, whipping his hips like he owns the damn place—like he knows it was maddening and _loving_ it.

How dare he make his dick hard, while paying him not attention at all?

Maybe that was the point. Maybe Malfoy was making this intentional, just to making him mad with lust and anger.

Because how on earth could he explain this sudden rush of heat that coursed through him the instant he appears? How on earth could he explain this maddening desire to grab him and make him moan until he cries? How on earth could he explain that?

He would be so easy. So easy to pick him up by the waist and slam him against the wall, his legs wrapped around him, his skin flush and hot. So easy to yank him on the ground, with his skirt lift, squirming and whining under him. So easy to grab him on his lap, skirt spread all over him, bouncing him on his dick until he screams.

So easy to just fuck him stupid.

He should be horrified to think about it. It’s _Malfoy_ , for fuck’s sake. But it’s like a bug behind his head, tempting him the more the night goes on and –

Ron, bless him, shoves on glass in his hands.

“Thanks” he grumbles, and take a long sip like a dying man. God knows he needs it.

“Did you see Zabini?” the red-hair asks, looking around the room. Harry shakes his head, but raises an eyebrow skeptically.

“Why do you need him?” he asks, and Ron just shrugs like he didn’t care, putting his hands in his pockets. This night he was a vampire. Somehow, he could be a good one, but the blush that creep over his neck was just as relevant as shocking.

It seems like Harry didn’t know him like he was thinking.

“Zabini, Ron ? Really?” he asks in shock. Okay, he was good-looking, and _okay_ , he was one of the rare that didn’t treat them like shit back then, but —

“He’s not that bad.”

“That’s not the point,” he argues.

Ron smiles. “Why, you’re not the only one allows to lust over a Slytherin.”

Harry chokes on his glass and snaps his friend.

“I’m not lusting over Malfoy!”

The git smirk and Harry want to punch him in the face. “I didn’t say it was Malfoy.”

_Yeah, right._

Rolling his eyes, he huffed in irritation. “Where do that sly come from anyway?” he grumbles.

Ron laughs. Tipping his glass, Harry crosse his ankles and lean himself against the wall. Seamus joined along the way, and they fall into a pleasant talk.

But Harry was distracted.

What was he _wearing_ anyway? Like, under his skirt. He wasn’t an expert, but he doubts that a boxer was appropriate with these kinds of clothes. The skirt was already too short anyway, and he didn’t see any short under.

Was he wearing _panties_? A shiver runs through his spine. Lace white panties to match the shirt. Or maybe blue, like the skirt. Or black? Or red?

He was crazy.

“Is that Goldstein?”

Harry tears his eyes from the maddening blond, and catches Anthony Goldstein making his way through the crow.

“Why is he going toward Malfoy?” He asks, irritate.

“He eyes him all night,” Seamus says. “Maybe his gonna make a move?”

 _What_? He wants to say, but Anthony was already reaching the blond, all goofy smile and all, leaning toward him like they were friends. Harry crisps his jaw, and they were talking, Malfoy moving a strand of hair out of his face, smiling, _flirting_ , blinking his eyelashes and biting his _lips_.

Anthony wasn’t even his type. Not that Harry knows what his type was, but he was certain Anthony _wasn’t_. Why did he play his game? Why Goldstein was flirting with Malfoy in the first place?

He was _angry_ —and something like possessiveness roar inside him. No one was allowed to touch him.

_No one but him._

He didn’t even have it in him to regret it.

But Harry wasn’t impulsive like before. He was now an adult, who could rest in control, and this wasn’t fucking Anthony that’s gonna ruin it.

But the bastard closes the distance between them, said something in Malfoy’s ears, and the blond chuckles, and then he puts his hand on his lower back and Harry saw _red_.

“Harry!”

God knows when he moves. In an instant, he was behind Malfoy, yanking him toward him, far from Anthony’s hand, and the blond jumps a little when his back hit his chest.

For a moment, the weight against him distracted him. Malfoy was skinnier than him, and his waist was perfect in his hand. Like he should be.

“Potter” Malfoy says, and he tilts his head backward to meet his eyes. Silver, like hot mercury, resting behind long pales eyelashes. Harry looks down, and his gaze moves toward his pink lips. Yeah, definitely gloss.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Anthony says with annoyance, crossing his arms toward his chest. Harry moves his eyes toward him, his hand resting on Malfoy’s hip contracting.

“What did it look like?” he snaps back. “Don’t touch him.”

Anthony frowned. “What, he’s your boyfriend or something?”

“That’s not your business. _Back off_.”

They look at each other for a long minute, jaw set, and after a bit, Goldstein sighs and walks away. Harry looks at him until he disappears in the crowd.

“Potter” Malfoy calls.

Harry blinks. Suddenly embarrassed—what the fuck did he just do?—he releases him and takes a step back. Malfoy turns around to face him.

Hell, he was hot.

“What was that?” Malfoy asks, one hand on his hip.

“Er…” Seriously, what was he thinking? He rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t know?”

Malfoy arches an eyebrow. Harry couldn’t take a closer look at his legs, the way they seem so long with his socks, and this skirt that drive him mad.

“You look good,” he says instead, clearing his throat. “I mean, really good.”

“Oh” Malfoy looks down a bit, and when his eyes meet him again, there was a small pink on his cheeks. Fuck, he thought, why was he looking so damn cute? “Thanks.”

They just stare at each other.

“What are you?”

“Huh?”

Malfoy smiles—a little. The way it lifts his lips was distracting. “Your disguise. What are you?”

“Oh,” Harry takes a look at himself. “Jack Sparrow. A pirate.”

Malfoy tilts his head. “Jack Sparrow?”

“Yeah, uh… It’s a muggle thing. I can show you some day.”

Malfoy’s eyes widen, and Harry just wants to kill himself. What did he say that?

“Er…” He looks away and try to catch himself up. “I mean, if you want, of course…”

He shut up. Malfoy blinks, and blinks again. And then, he smiles.

“Okay”

A long sliver trail over his left eyes. Before he can stop himself, Harry lifts his hand and puts it gently behind his ear. His skin was smooth on his skin, and Malfoy blush a little.

He murmurs, “can I kiss you?”

Before he could regret it, Malfoy’s nod and tilt his head. Harry leans toward him, and when their breath melt, he shut his eyes and kiss him.

This was heaven. Malfoy’s lips were soft and sweet. He moves carefully, and the blond takes a step toward him, letting their chest collide. Harry puts one hand on his hip, letting himself feel the hot skin through his shirt Malfoy moves his hand and settle them on his shoulders. The kiss was slow and sensual, and so damn good that he felt a buzz in his head. He should have done it earlier.

Malfoy sigh against him and parts his lips. Harry didn’t hesitate and slides his tongue inside his mouth. Their tongue met each other, and something twist in his guts. Malfoy tastes like alcohol and chocolate, and maybe his gloss was strawberry. Intoxicating. Maddening. He presses the Slytherin more against him, and Malfoy moan, and Harry could help it when his hands slide to the end of his skirt, just a little more, and against the pale skin below. He presses the flesh, and Malfoy hands were in his hair, twisting, and Harry kissing him like a hungry man.

“Potter” Malfoy breath when they part their lips, and his voice was clouded with desire, eyes dark and cheeks flush.

“Yeah” he licks his lip and grab his hand. “Let’s get out of there.”

They made their way out of the room, and then along the empty corridors. Harry could help but touch him—his hip, his back, his arse. Miraculously, they made it inside the Griffondor tour, and when they were inside his dorm, he slams the blond against the door and kisses him hard.

“You have no idea,” he pants, “what you’re doing to me.”

“Oh yeah?” Malfoy bits back a moan when he bits his neck. “Then show me.”

Harry lifts him. Malfoy startles, and closes his legs around his waist by reflex. They hip meet each other and they moan.

“Fuck Potter” the blond says, and Harry could agree more. He moves them up to his bed, and with more delicacy, he spread him against his red sheet.

He was beautiful like this. With his hair messy, his skin flush red, and his skirt raise. Harry wants to eat him and never let him go again.

Moving above him, he kisses him again, this time sloppy. Malfoy spread his legs and he settles himself between, trailing his hand under his skirt until he reaches —

He moves back a little, and lifts the skirt, and—he is stuck in a breath.

A _string_. A fucking blue string with dentelle.

“Fuck”

Malfoy giggles. “Do you like it?”

“Fuck yeah” he leans again and kiss under his jaw, then his throat, and then he sucks hard. Malfoy tilts his head for more room, and Harry marks him with pleasure, smirking when he squirms under him.

He moves back, tugging at his shirt. Malfoy raises his arms and Harry toss it aside, letting his fingers trails over the pale chest. His nipples were pink, and when his nail pass over one, Malfoy keen under him.

“You’re so sensible” he breath, and then lean, and then take it in his mouth. Malfoy’s back arch, his hand in his hair, and Harry sucks and twists his tongue over it and bite.

“Potter !” Malfoy whine and Harry look up.

“I want to eat you. Can I?”

Malfoy bits his lip and nod.

Harry kisses his chest, and trail below, slowly, letting his tongue caress him and his teeth scrape his skin. When he reaches the skirt, he lifts it against his belly, Malfoy’s erection leaking under the thin string. What a sign. He kisses the head of his prick, mouthing against the smooth fabric, and Malfoy spreads his legs further, moaning.

He trails under, and then he was at his arse, firm and plumb. Merlin, he thought, and then he spreads his arse open, and there it is; his hole, pink, just behind a thin blue line.

He gulps. Malfoy was looking at him under his eyelashes, the perfect sign, and Harry moves further, kissing the rim, just little pick of his lips.

Malfoy shiver. Harry spread his legs more—damn he was flexible—and lets his tongue moves along the holy hole, not breaking the flesh yet, just teasing over and over.

“Oh Merlin,” Malfoy moans and squirm and arches, and Harry dives further, just a little, and then he dives his tongue inside him.

“Fuck!” The blond hand was back inside his hair. Harry was mesmerized by the way his inside pulse against his tongue, and he dives back again, and Malfoy lets a sound of pure bliss pass his lips.

Harry laps, kisses, and fuck him with his tongue like he was a madman. Malfoy moans, and whines, and shivers, and these sounds were like gunfire inside his guts. He places his hand firmly on his waist, resting him against the couch, and moving inside him.

“ _Fuckfuckfuck_ —Potter !” Malfoy arches and his legs shakes. “I’m gonna c-come!”

But he didn’t stop. If any, he redoubles his efforts, and Malfoy pushes his head and twists in his hand, and then —

“Fuck!” Harry stands up to look at him. Malfoy’s coming is a vision of heaven. The blond shakes and moans, and his belly shrinks as come drenchs his knickers. Harry couldn’t tear his eyes away until he was done, shivering against the sheet.

He bends over to kiss him on the lip.

The blond responds and it was sloppy again. Harry caresses his legs and murmurs something against his lips, his eyes never leaving him.

Malfoy shiver when he felt a cold hand against his rim. “What —?”

“I’m not done with you yet.”

Before he could respond, Harry inserts one finger. He just let pass the first knuckle, and just tease him.

“Hmmm…” Malfoy eyes flutter. Harry pushes inside, until his finger was fully inside, and then he moves slowly, looking, testing.

“Potter…”

“Harry”

Malfoy looks at him for a second.

“Harry”

Harry bits his lip, and turns his finger up. Malfoy—Draco now, right?—arches and grips his shoulder.

“F-fuck…” he moans, and Harry smile. He adds a second finger, and fuck him with it, making him a mess.

“G-god, Harry fuck!” his pupils were so bright and vivid.

“I want you” he pleads, and Harry guts twist. “Fuck me, Harry”

He didn’t waste time. With one motion, he removes his clothes. His dick was painfully hard against his boxer, and he sighs when he finally free it.

Draco straightens up on his elbow, looking at him with wide eyes.

Harry murmur again, and when the lube appears on his hands, he applies it on his prick, hissing when the pleasure it him.

He places himself on the bed, back against the wall, and tap his leg. “Come here. Ride me.”

Malfoy crawl toward him. He settles himself on his lap, with his socks and his skirt on, and this was the most beautiful view on the world.

With his hand on his waist, Harry helps him lift his hip. Draco takes his prick on his hand, his long fingers wrapping around him. Harry just toss the sting aside.

The blond sits slowly. Mouth hung open, head threw back, he lets him in with a painful move. Harry groans and his hands twist against his hips. The blond was so hot, and tight, and Harry was mad.

“Fuck…” Draco sigh, letting his hand drop on his shoulder. He twitches a little, and shiver. “Oh God…”

“Are you okay?” Harry asks, smoothing his waist. He voice was strained and dark, and the blond bite back a moan.

“Yeah, fuck” he lifts himself a little, and drove back. “Oh Merlin”

Harry groans, deep in his chest, and Draco began to move. It was slow at first, and with each movement he whimpers, his hands shaking on his shoulder.

“God, you’re so beautiful like this,” Harry murmurs, playing with his skin.

“Hmmm….” He opens his eyes, and there was something there, something strong and aching. “Merlin, Harry”

Something snaps inside him. He grips his hip and snaps his hips up, meeting the blond halfway. Draco moan, loud, and Harry need to hear it again. So, he lifts himself again, and again, and again.

And when he shifts and trusts with a growl, Draco _screams_.

“Fuck yes!” he keens, and shakes.

“God Draco,” Harry breathes. “You have no idea what you did to me.”

He leans and grips his hair, hard, and Draco melt. “Moving around in this skirt like a fucking _whore_ ”

Draco whine, high and needy, and Harry got _feral_.

“It’s that what you wanted?” He asks between his breath. “Driving me crazy so I can fuck you mad?”

He trusts inside him, _hard_.

“Fuck yes!” he screams. “Oh my God so good! Anh! Anh! Harry!”

God help him. Harry slams him against the bed and lifts his legs on his shoulder. He moves out completely, and then snaps back hard enough to make the bed shake.

“Fuck! Oh god oh god _don’t stop don’t stop don’t —_ ”

“Tell me how bad you’ve been,” he growls.

“I've been bad I've been so bad oh god —” he digs his nails in his shoulder, twitching hard and jolting when Harry trusts again. “Ah! Fu-u-u-ck Harry, yes!”

“Naughty girl”

He keens, and all his body melt like jelly. Damn. He was so beautiful it actually hurt.

“I can’t— _Fuck I’m gonna cum again I’m gonna cum again_ —”

“Fuck yeah, come for me.”

Harry trusts, and trusts again, and leans and plants his teeth on the skin of his collarbone and bites, hard.

“FUCK!” Draco _wails_ , and all his body arch of the bed and his dick twitches hard, and then he comes, and comes, and _comes_.

Harry felt all his inside shrinks, all the air inside his chest left him. He moves one, twice, and his world went white, the earth stop, and he shouts his load deep inside the blond until he couldn’t breathe.

When the buzz in his ears dims, he moves slowly, slips outside the beautiful body below him. He watches, mesmerized, as he comes slide of his abuse hole, and on the sheet.

“F-fuck” Draco breaths, his muscles twitching ever slightly. “I think I got numb.”

Harry chuckle. Moving, he murmurs a cleaning spell on them, and lets himself settle beside him on one elbow.

“Okay?”

Draco hums, and places his body against him. Harry slides his finger in his hair gently. They were really like silk.

“Didn’t know it was your kink,” Draco giggle, looking at him through his eyelashes.

“Didn’t know either,” Harry shrug, and then frowns. “I think it’s just you.”

Draco blushes a little, and looks suddenly vulnerable. “Really?”

“Yeah” he bends over and kiss him gently. “Want to go with me at Hogsmeade?”

Draco smiles, and Harry thinks that maybe Halloween wasn’t that bad.


End file.
